


Marlana and The Eel

by MaddyHughes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (sort of Tentacle Sex), Actually The Eel Is Quite Sweet, Artificial Insemination, By Mason Not The Eel, Eel sex, Episode: s03e07 Digestivo, F/F, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Murder Wives, Other, Seriously The Eel Is Sweet, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyHughes/pseuds/MaddyHughes
Summary: It's a beautiful romance involving murder, sperm and an eel.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nerve_Itch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerve_Itch/gifts).



Margot’s face is stained with tears: a single black mascara track down her flawless face. But her eyes are steady and resolute.

‘I’m taking what you promised me,’ she says to her brother, ‘and I’ve got everything I need from you now.’

‘You can’t kill me Margot,’ says Mason, his own flawed face covered with Cordell’s blood. ‘You’ll lose everything. In the absence of an heir, the sole beneficiary is the Southern Baptist Church.’

‘But there is going to be an heir, Mason. A Verger baby: yours, mine…’ She tilts her head. ‘Mostly yours.’

Alana steps into the room: black pinstripe skirt suit, cream top, lipstick red as blood.

‘Do you know what happens when we stimulate your prostate gland with a cattle prod?’ she asks. ‘Hannibal does. He helped us milk you.’

Mason snarls. As best he can without a face. ‘Ah, you’re dead, Dr Bloom.’

‘No Mason. We all are. Didn’t you know that?’ Alana holds up a test tube filled with a milky liquid. Still warm. ‘But these aren’t.’

Mason lifts his hand with the gun, swinging it towards Alana. Margot tackles him, pushing his arm off course. He squeezes the trigger and the bullet cracks the glass aquarium beneath him.

He’s helpless, strapped into his heavy wheelchair which shatters the glass. He falls into the water.

The two women act as one: kneeling beside the jagged hole. Holding Mason’s head down under the water as he thrashes. Struggles.

And then the eel.

It likes holes. Likes dark cavernous spaces. It has been in the open for too long, swimming round and round in an endless figure of eight, looking for a place to hide.

It swims into Mason’s gaping mouth and wriggles in. Down his throat, cutting off the last of his screams: a monstrous parody of what Mason made Margot do to him.

_Take the chocolate, Margot._

Never again.

It’s over.

They’re breathing hard. Leaning together into the water as Mason sinks to the bottom. It is the first person Margot has killed. It is the second that Alana has killed, but only by about an hour.

‘He was right,’ whispers Margot. Her hair is wet and sticking to her face. ‘That was very therapeutic.’

She reaches over with dripping hands and pulls Alana to her. Kisses her deeply, red mouth to red mouth, their tongues as wet and muscular as the eel. Both of them dizzy with relief and adrenaline. Jesus fuck (no Mason to punish her for blaspheming, hallelujah), she’s turned on.

Is this how he felt when he hurt someone?

She pushes off Alana’s wet jacket; it gets caught on her elbows but with some struggling she gets it off without having to stop kissing her. Her cream camisole is easier: she just pushes it up to expose Alana’s breasts in cream lace. Margot suckles Alana’s nipple through her bra, leaving a red mouthprint on the silk. She thrusts her hand down the front of Alana’s skirt.

‘We just killed someone,’ gasps Alana. But she holds on tight to Margot anyway, and tears at the buttons of her gold satin blouse.

‘Seeing death sort of makes you want to live your life, doesn’t it?’ Margot rolls on top of her and Alana wraps her legs around Margot’s waist. Her hand is in Alana’s panties now and shit, she’s wet. As wet as Margot is—she feels Alana’s hands pulling up her skirt, pushing down her panties, cupping her ass, dipping between the cheeks of it to feel the lips of her cunt.

She grinds against Alana, pressing her hand harder against her. They’re lying in puddles, practically in the aquarium where Mason is floating dead, and she doesn’t care. This beautiful, incredible, brave, caustic, loving woman is here and warm against her and Margot is so in love.

She rubs Alana’s clit, feels her jerk and moan. Alana’s breasts against Margot’s, separated by wet silk and satin. Alana slides a finger into her from behind and, desperate, Margot pulls Alana’s underwear down her thighs.

Neither one of them notices the eel.

It has left Mason, who is already going cold, and is looking for another place to hide. Its body, a pure ribbon of muscle, undulates up through the water. To the surface. Seeking heat.

It’s not an it. It’s a she. Male and female eels look alike to the untrained eye, and Mason always thought this one was male, because let’s face it, he related everything to his own penis. But it isn’t male, or it isn’t at present, anyway; moray eels can change sex, and this one was born male and switched for a mysterious eelish reason, about the time that Mason lost his face.

She, this female eel, smells something in the water. It’s the scent of darkness and pleasure. She slithers to the surface, out of the water and onto the wet floor.

It’s wet with more than water. The test tube has fallen from Alana’s hand in the excitement of killing, and the impact has unstoppered it. Precious seminal fluid leaks onto the tiles.

The eel is not aware that upon this sperm rests the fate of a nearly four billion dollar meat-packing empire. She merely regards it as useful lubrication on her journey through this alien dry world. She slithers through it, heading for the warmth, picking up a sheen of pearly white.

Alana feels something wet against her thigh. But everything is wet, and what Margot is doing with her hand at her crotch and her mouth at her breast is very distracting and wonderful. She moans, tilts her head back against the tiles, arches her hips to give Margot easier access.

Something blunt and hard and wet at the entrance to her sex. Alana loosens her thighs to let it, little by little, in.

Margot is feeling her own sort of magic. Alana’s middle finger is thrusting into her, curling and caressing her from the inside, and now a flicker of delicate moistness against her clit, like a cunning tongue. She gasps against Alana’s breast and bites her.

Alana is being stretched and filled. She doesn’t know how many fingers Margot is using, but it feels incredible. It feels as if Margot is going deeper and deeper, more than she thought could be possible, and instead of thrusts there’s this sort of ecstatic undulating. She thinks about Mason’s blood spiraling down into water, his breath stopped, and this shouldn’t turn her on but it does. The ending of someone evil, and the beginning of something wonderful, at last.

The cunning tongue-like touch at Margot’s clit slithers down and joins Alana’s finger at her hole. Slips inside, fluttering, a clever tail. Presses a broad muscle against her clit instead, moving in time with the head inside Alana.

The eel—by this time we should give her a name, shouldn’t we? Eva sounds about right—Eva is in heaven. Warm slippery darkness envelopes her head and tail, and two soft bodies writhe around her. All this time alone in the tank with a light constantly on her, she’s been lonely.

And now…these women aren’t eels. But they are soft and warm, and they give her pleasure. Morays mate by wrapping themselves around each other, tender and tight, a thousand caresses up and down their lengths.

Alana can’t quite believe what she’s feeling. It’s as if Margot has three hands instead of two, rubbing up inside her with the most incredible friction she has ever felt. She strains herself upwards, trying to get still more inside her, pushing her own fingers into Margot. She’s so tight, it’s almost as if there’s something else other than her fingers fucking her.

But Margot is talking now, words like kisses on Alana’s breast. She always talks before she comes, in that gravelly, dirty voice of hers.

“Oh Jesus, oh Lana darling, oh yes, oh fuck yes, we’re going to make the most beautiful baby together, I love you so fucking much, I’m going to come all over your gorgeous hand. Yes. Yes. Come with me, baby. Come on. Yes!!’

Margot comes first. She screams aloud, hoarse and beautiful, and the sound is sexy enough to topple Alana over the edge as well. She spasms around the thick length inside of her, vaginal walls pushing Mason’s sperm up towards her cervix, towards the awaiting ovum, and giving Eva the equivalent of a tight, tight hug.

A bit too tight, and besides, it’s time for Eva to breathe. Slowly, she withdraws from this perfect closeness, winding her body along the trembling flesh of the two women. A third female in their embrace.

Maybe this is why she changed: to be part of the winning team.

As Margot and Alana kiss, lost in each other and what they have done, Eva slips along the slippery floor and with a soft, sated splash, returns to the water again.


End file.
